


Ray-Ray Speaks The Truth

by mrecookies



Series: The Tale Of The Most Pissy Marine And The Stubborn LT As Told By Ray-Ray [1]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Crack, Explicit Language, Friendship, Gen, Humor, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 08:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrecookies/pseuds/mrecookies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad and the LT are always doing their eyefucking thing, with the LT's honest-to-fuck cocksucker mouth tilted up to one side and Brad letting his whole Iceman facade down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ray-Ray Speaks The Truth

**Author's Note:**

> My first GK fic ever. I probably don't have the voices down pat, but Ray's voice ~came~ to me halfway during a lecture, thanks to sleep deprivation and a whole lot of report-writing. It was fun to write though. Dedicated to etacanis, who ruined my life wonderfully by introducing me to GK and the flawless angsty otp that is Brad/Nate.
> 
> Disclaimer: Based on the fictionalized characters as played by PJ Ransone, Alexander Skarsgard, and Stark Sands in the HBO miniseries, not the real people.

Ray is high on Ripped Fuel and dip and hours of no fucking sleep, so he doesn't really give a flying Hajji fuck about the words that spill out of his mouth at four in the morning. Ray admits he's being kind of pissy, intentionally making the turns just a touch too hard so that the entire Humvee rattles, but if there ever was going to be an award for Most Pissy Marine, it would go to the fucking Iceman sitting next to him, who's definitely the King of Pissy right now with his brooding silence and goddamned ban on Ray singing any kind of music.

And it's all the LT's fault. Don't get Ray wrong, Ray _likes_ Lieutenant Fick. He's competent and not an ass-kissing motherfucker like Schwetje or a mad son-of-a-bitch psycho like Captain America. But with all his good qualities, the LT is fucking _trouble_. Because Brad obviously wants to do the nasty with him, and even though Brad's the fucking Iceman and all that, Ray's spent way too much time stuck in a tin-plated hellhole to not see how the Iceman becomes _Brad_ when the LT comes around.

Brad and the LT are always doing their eyefucking thing, with the LT's honest-to-fuck cocksucker mouth tilted up to one side and Brad letting his whole Iceman facade down. Even now, when they've finally stopped and the LT is here talking to Brad with his shiny green fuck-me eyes. (Not that Ray will ever tell Brad about the LT's mouth or eyes. Ray might be in a motherfucking war, but he doesn't have a death wish.)

So when the LT finally pats the roof of their shit-ass Humvee and goes away (don't think that Ray missed how Brad was fucking staring at the LT's ass; Ray's high, but he's not _blind_ ), and Walt and Trombley and Reporter have fucked off to rest in the Hajji sand, Ray leans over and tells Brad what the fuck exactly is on his mind.

"Jesus fuck, Brad, would you two pansy ass pussies just _please_ dig a goddamn fucking grave and do whatever you dicksucks fantasise doing in your combat jacks, namely sucking dick and other kinky things you dirty fuckers want to do to each other?"

"Ray, shut the _fuck up."_

"I'm just saying, homes, that you two need to bang the sexual frustration out of the goddamned air before all of us innocent Devil Dogs choke on it like a cheap Thai whore on good American cock. It's the gracious fucking thing to do, man. The motherfucking tension between you and the LT is affecting our combat fucking readiness. Do you know how hard it is to jack off to Susie Rottencrotch and her hypothetical gravity-defying tits when we're all worried about you two eyefucking each other to Nasiriyah and back? Brad. _Brad_. Are you listening to me, homes?"

"Ray, I don't listen to bucktoothed, donkey-humping hicks who don't seem to have learned from their whisky-tango mothers how to shut the fuck up."

"What the fuck ever, Brad. You use those same insults time and time again. What's that phrase? Water off a motherfucking duck's back? Show some creativity for your Ray-Ray. So you agree then, homes, about the unre-fucking-solved sexual tension that surrounds and corrupts the young gentlemen that are serving our illustrious country in a godforsaken desert?"

"Ray. There is no goddamn eyefucking going on between the LT and your dear Sergeant Colbert. Don't blame us for being highly evolved humans who can communicate in silence with the mere power of our sight, transmitting nought but good thoughts of mutual trust and universal brotherhood. You and your inbred, goat-fucking self, on the other hand, can continue your bleating gossip fantasies while transmitting syphilis to all the unfortunate animals of this great world."

With that, Brad climbs out of the Humvee to shamble over to Bravo Two to bitch with Poke, but Ray isn't fooled. Good thoughts of trust and brotherhood his ass. Well, if Brad wants to be a pissy bitch and not police his obvious homoerotic intentions towards the LT, Ray's going to have to step it up the fucking notch. Ray sees the LT go up to Poke and Brad and Kocher for a quick word, and stuffs some more dip into his mouth, because why the fuck not. It's not like he'll be sleeping tonight anyway, and he needs the energy to persuade the LT that fucking Brad is a good way to release the pent-up frustration with Command dicksucks.

"Hey, LT! Can I have a word, sir?"


End file.
